Puzzles
by notsure2010
Summary: Yet another story about how Jane and Maura get to know each other.  Rizzles, of course.  Rating upped to M for the last chapter.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

Chapter 1

The homicide department was empty when Dr. Maura Isles walked in. She headed straight for the file cabinet against the west wall, relieved that she could retrieve the materials she needed without the presence of the detectives who usually occupied the office.

Her relief was short lived, however; as soon as she pulled open the drawer she heard voices and laughter coming down the hall and within seconds three detectives had entered the workspace, bringing with them the unmistakable smell of garlic and mozzarella. Detective Frost was carrying a pizza box, which he placed on his desk, and he was followed by detective Korsak, who was in the middle of telling some sort of anecdote that seemed to require a lot of gesturing. Behind him came detective Jane Rizzoli, who was the first to notice Maura rifling through the file cabinet.

"Hey, Dr. Isles." Jane smiled at her colleague, the department's chief medical examiner. "Can we help you find something?"

"Oh, I'm just looking for the files on the Hansen case, I got some of the lab work back just a few minutes ago and I needed to make some comparisons . . . and here it is. Sorry to interrupt your story, detective Korsak."

"No problem, Dr. Isles," said Korsak, who then looked as though he would launch into his story again immediately, but Jane interrupted.

"You're welcome up here any time, Maura, it's not your fault we keep all of the files in here."

Maura wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she just nodded and muttered, "Well, thank you, in any case." She quickly exited the office and headed back down to the solitude of the morgue.

As soon as the sound of her heels clicking on the tile died away, Jane sat at her desk, groaned, and said, "Wow, that was awkward."

"What do you mean?" said Korsak, gruffly, and then continued in what might pass for a whisper, "You have a problem with Dr. Isles or something?"

"No, it's just we've never asked her to lunch and she's worked here what, half a year now? We really should be nicer to her."

"Actually, we did go to lunch with her that first week she was here," interjected Frost, "She didn't seem to enjoy it much."

Korsak agreed with Frost. "Yeah, and she didn't really . . . fit in. She's not a cop, she's a doctor, and she's always wearing those fancy dresses."

"So? What's that got to do with anything?" Jane gave Korsak a look.

"Do you really think she would want to hang out with us at Rocco's Pizza, getting grease on her clothes listening to a bunch of cops telling dirty jokes?"

Jane looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I just feel bad for her, stuck down in the morgue all day. I don't know if I've ever seen her even eat anything for lunch."

"I have. Those little packets of tuna salad with crackers," said Frost from behind his computer.

Korsak snorted with derision. "You'd think someone like her would eat snobby, stuck up food, like caviar or sushi or something, not cat food."

"Gross, Korsak!" Jane gave her former partner another look, but she laughed all the same. It did seem strange that someone as sophisticated as Maura Isles spent her lunch hours alone eating tuna fish, but then a lot about the M.E. seemed a bit strange. Jane Rizzoli could usually read people fairly easily, but Dr. Isles was proving to be a tough nut to crack.

* * *

Back in the morgue, Maura made quick work of examining the file and making notes on the new test results. Then, despite the fact that she had a mountain of work to do, she sat down at her desk for lunch. Maura was a creature of habit, and she was easily irritated when her usual routines were upset. As it was she was eating lunch an hour later than usual, but she still followed the routine—tuna salad, diet coke, and fifteen minutes of online window shopping. It was the one break that she allowed herself each day.

Maura Isles had a love/hate relationship with her job. She loved the science of the human body, and she loved the fact that her work allowed her to speak for the dead. Solving puzzles gave her the mental exercise she needed, while at the same time the routine work of lab tests and autopsies was regular and comforting, in a way.

But medical examiners also have to work closely with detectives, and Maura knew that she had difficulty working with people—live ones, anyway. She just felt so _different_ from the detectives. She came from a privileged background and had many more years of education than any of her colleagues yet they distrusted her simply because she hadn't grown up "on the streets," as many of the cops put it. It also didn't help that she was a woman in an overwhelmingly male profession. A woman who wore heels and designer dresses.

At least, that's what she thought. She didn't really know, and she certainly wasn't going to ask. She just knew that she had never been able to develop any sort of relationship with previous or current colleagues. Most of the time she was fine with that fact—she had her work to keep her busy—but there were still those awkward moments when she was reminded of her outsider status.

It's not like she really _wanted_ to go to lunch with her colleagues. She didn't know them well, and they didn't have much in common other than work, which meant the conversation would be forced and awkward. And she could only imagine the kind of food that the detectives preferred. But standing there in the office listening to the easy conversation and laughter between the three detectives was still embarrassing, because she knew she would never be a part of it.

And then there was Jane Rizzoli. Maura wouldn't admit it to herself, but she found the woman mesmerizing. She was so at home in her profession, and with her colleagues. She made fitting in as "one of the guys" look like the easiest thing in the world. Totally dedicated to her job, she was one of the top detectives, even if she didn't always do things by the book.

And to top it all off, she was gorgeous. Not the kind of beauty that needs to be dressed up—the kind that Maura thought maybe she herself had, on a good day—but beauty that shone through plain t-shirts and boxy blazers.

It seemed like Jane had everything, and this made Maura irritated, jealous, and awe-struck, all at the same time.

* * *

Jane worked at her desk until nearly 6:30 pm, trying to catch up on paperwork. Her boss had yelled at her earlier in the day for getting so behind so she was grumpy about it. When she felt her stomach growling, she had a sudden thought—an idea for an excuse to put the files away and get out of the office. She headed downstairs, hoping that the M.E. was still at work too.

What she found as she opened the glass doors that led into the morgue startled her. With her back to the door so that she couldn't see Jane as she walked in, Maura picked up what looked like a container of food, threw it forcibly into a nearby trashcan, and yelled "Shit!" just as the container hit the bottom of the can.

Jane froze. For a split second she wondered if she could somehow back out of the morgue without being seen, but then the glass door closed behind her with a click that seemed nearly as loud as the echo from the M.E.'s cursing.

Maura spun around, red faced.

"Oh, detective Rizzoli," she sputtered, and then paused briefly to compose herself, "I didn't hear you come in. Is there something I can do for you?"

Jane ignored the question. "Maura, is everything okay? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's fine, you didn't startle me, I was just—" Maura sighed, feeling very uncomfortable.

"Detective, it's been a long day. A long week, actually. I thought I had some leftovers in the fridge that I was going to eat for dinner, but it turns out they were last week's leftovers and thus inedible today. And, I'm out of diet coke. I'm sure it seems silly to you, but I always look forward to a diet coke with my dinner."

It did, in fact, seem strange to Jane that the lack of a diet coke could make the normally unflappable Dr. Isles scream out a curse word at the top of her lungs, but also just a little bit funny. She smothered a giggle.

"Hey, it's okay, just ask Korsak about what he's heard coming out of my mouth when I don't get a cup of coffee in the morning."

Maura looked relieved, gave a weak smile, and repeated her previous question. "So, is there something I can do for you, detective?"

"First of all, you can call me Jane. Second, I actually came down here to see if you might want to get some dinner with me. Since we're the only two women in the department, it seems like we should, you know, do stuff together—outside of a crime scene."

Jane studied Maura's reaction to her offer carefully. She looked at Jane cautiously, with her head slightly cocked to one side, as though she weren't sure what to make of the invitation. Then, almost as though some sort of primitive instinct had kicked in, she shook her head and looked away.

"That's very nice of you to offer, detective—I mean, Jane—but I really don't have time for dinner tonight. I have to finish a couple of reports for tomorrow, and like I said, it's already been a long day."

"You sure? The reports can't wait?"

"I'm sure, but thank you."

"Okay, well, maybe some other time. Have fun with your reports . . . I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, have a good evening, detective."

"Jane."

"Sorry, yes, Jane." Maura smiled weakly again.

Jane walked out of the morgue feeling strangely disappointed, and not just because she felt guilty for abandoning her own paperwork upstairs on her desk. There was just something about the M.E. that puzzled her, and Jane loved a puzzle.

She returned to the morgue thirty minutes later, with a bag of takeout, a cup of coffee, and a giant plastic cup filled with diet coke and ice. She handed the cup to Maura, who took it with a stunned look on her face.

"I got turkey sandwiches from the deli over on Baker—I figure everyone likes turkey?" Jane smiled hopefully at the blond M.E., who was staring at her blankly.

Then a slow grin spread across her face. Her whole demeanor changed, and almost instantly she seemed comfortable and relaxed. Jane felt a strange flutter in her stomach as Maura's eyes caught hers.

"You . . . you brought me dinner? And diet coke?"

"You have to eat, right? And you'll probably need the caffeine if you're going to finish those reports."

"Jane, thank you, that's so sweet of you. I don't know what to say."

"No big deal. C'mon, let's eat."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

Chapter 2

By the time Maura returned home from work after her impromptu dinner with Jane, she was absolutely sure of two things.

First, Jane Rizzoli was just about the most amazing person she had ever met. Confidence practically rolled off her in waves, yet she wasn't the least bit arrogant. In fact, she had spent nearly the entire evening talking about her new partner, Frost, who had just been made homicide detective but had a weak stomach and therefore vomited at nearly every crime scene he visited. Maura had noticed this, of course, but what she hadn't known was that Jane felt horrible about all of the teasing Frost was receiving and was trying to figure out a way to help him without making him feel even worse. Maura found Jane's concern for her rookie partner sweet and surprising, since Jane normally exuded only a tough-as-nails attitude.

Second, she knew that she wanted to spend more time with Jane. This was a strange feeling for Maura, since she was usually more comfortable with the dead than the living. She had always prided herself on the fact that she could keep herself busy and happy without being dependent on other people for attention or entertainment. She spent most of her time alone, and believed that was the way she preferred it. She was alone without being lonely.

But there was something about Jane—something that made her feel lonely when she went home to her empty house, like something was missing.

A little voice in Maura's brain told her that it was ridiculous to miss Jane, since she had barely spent an hour with the woman outside of a crime scene. Furthermore, said the voice, this feeling of loneliness was unsettling and even frightening, and really shouldn't be encouraged since it was bound to upset the comfortable and stable life she had built for herself.

But for reasons that she wasn't entirely clear about—reasons that seemed to stem from some spot deep inside of her that she hadn't really acknowledged before—Maura banished that little voice to a dusty corner in her brain.

She made a resolution: she was going to ask Jane to have dinner with her. It was immersion therapy—she had told Jane that if Frost had enough contact with dead bodies, he could overcome his nausea. She just had to hope that the same thing would work for her and her fear of the living.

* * *

Every evening for the next several days Maura found an excuse to go up to the detectives' office right around dinner time. The first night Jane had already gone home. The next night she was out in the field. Then, for three nights in a row, she had found Jane at her desk but there were always other detectives or cops around, and Maura was afraid it would be rude or just plain weird if she invited Jane to dinner in front of them.

Jane noticed Maura's increased presence in the office. She always seemed to arrive upstairs at about the same time, looking for files or returning them. Usually when Maura interacted with the detectives her conversations were short and to the point, or she avoided talking at all, just retrieving what she needed with barely a word. But now she seemed to linger, reading files while standing at the cabinet. Jane could have sworn she was eavesdropping. But what could she possibly be hoping to overhear?

It finally became clear on a Wednesday evening, when Jane had to go down to the morgue to see if an autopsy report was ready. She was preoccupied with a case, and when Maura handed her the report she simply said a quick thank you and turned back toward the door. She was halfway out in the hall when she heard Maura call out to her.

"Detective, wait!" Jane turned around and looked at the blonde woman who had taken two quick steps toward her.

"Detective—I mean, Jane." Maura smiled and paused, looking down at her feet and then up again before continuing.

"I wanted to thank you again for bringing me dinner the other night, and I was hoping that I could return the favor? Maybe tonight, we could go out? For dinner, I mean? If you aren't too busy?"

Jane's mouth turned up at the corner as she watched the M.E. struggle to get her words out, struck by the fact that this woman could rattle off the Latin names of bones and body parts without a second thought while a simple dinner invitation had reduced her to three-word sentences.

Suddenly she realized why Maura had been haunting the detectives' office all week—she had been trying for days to ask Jane to dinner.

Jane felt strangely elated by this realization.

"Sure, Maura, I'm starving and I could use a break from this case. Anyplace special you want to go?"

The smile that appeared on Maura's face was radiant and—adorable. That's the only word Jane could think of to describe it.

"Well, I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked, but I did a little research. There's Café Côte d'Azur, which is modern Provençal, and it has received several good reviews recently. The Union Oysterhouse is also very popular if you like seafood. If not, maybe Indian food, at the Mantra—"

"What, did you memorize Zagats?" Jane grinned but then felt bad when Maura's face fell. "Why don't we just go to the Greek place two blocks from here? The food's usually pretty good, and it's close."

Maura perked up again. "Oh, the Mad Greek? I read a couple of good reviews online—that would be great. Are you ready now, or—"

"I'll meet you out front in ten minutes?"

"Okay."

* * *

Maura had made a list of possible topics of conversation for dinner. After they ordered their meals she went through the list mentally and was about to start with a question about women in politics when Jane started with a much more basic question.

"Does your family live here in Boston?"

"No, my parents live in upstate New York now. My dad was a professor at BCU but he's retired. He still gives invited lectures now and then, and they both travel a lot so I don't see much of them."

"What about your brothers and sisters?"

Maura shook her head slightly. "I'm an only child. My parents married late and then discovered that they couldn't have children of their own, so they adopted me when they were in their forties."

"Oh. That's . . . different."

"Actually, about 15% of all married couples have either no children or only one child, and that statistic doesn't include unmarried couples who have children, so there are a significant number of only children like myself living in the United States today."

"Okay, Miss Wikipedia, thanks for the statistics, but I highly doubt that there are a lot of people out there like you."

Maura looked confused, as she wrinkled her forehead. She wasn't sure if Jane was making fun of her, so she decided a little self-deprecation was in order.

"Sorry, I tend to talk too much sometimes—"

Jane cut her off. "No, it's not that, I just meant that you are very unique, Maura. In a good way." She smiled and took a sip of her water. "I mean, you're definitely smarter than 85% of the population of the United States. You're certainly the best M.E. I've ever worked with, that's for sure."

"Oh, okay." Maura smiled too, and even blushed a little. "Thank you." She looked down at her plate, and decided to shift the focus of the conversation.

"So what about your family? I know your brother Frankie is a cop too, but do your parents live in Boston?"

"Yeah, I've lived in Boston all my life. My dad's a plumber, and my mom is a crazy Italian who has held several jobs in her lifetime but currently her primary occupation is nagging me about finding a husband. In her spare time she nags Frankie about finding a wife."

"Really? My parents have never expressed any interest in my love life whatsoever."

"Well, want to trade? My mother is constantly trying to set me up with men—her friends' sons, guys she meets at the supermarket. Once she bought three lamps at a furniture store just so that she could make me go with her to return them because she thought the salesman was cute."

Maura giggled. "Wow, that must be fun. But I would have thought someone as gorgeous as you would have no trouble finding their own dates."

Jane was surprised at the flush she felt rising in her face when she realized that Maura had just said she was gorgeous. She tried to cover it up with a laugh.

"Yeah, right. I'm not exactly the kind of girls most guys want to go out with."

"What do you mean? Guys don't like smart, confident women with interesting jobs?"

Jane looked at Maura expecting to see signs of sarcasm on her face, but found none. Instead, Maura's face had a look of openness and honesty that she was beginning to admire. She felt herself blushing, again.

"No, they don't. They like girls with big tits and little brains. I wear pants and blazers and, as my mother reminds me almost daily, I never do anything with my hair."

Both women laughed, and then Jane deflected the issue. "Besides, what's your excuse? You're smart, beautiful, sophisticated, and you're always dressed like you're about to do a photo shoot. Why aren't guys hanging all over you?"

Maura stopped laughing as she thought about how to answer the question. She remembered her immersion therapy plan, and decided to go with honesty.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm horrible at social interactions, and I'm beyond horrible on dates."

"Everyone's awkward on dates, Maura," said Jane, kindly.

"Not like me. I have this bad habit of diagnosing people."

"What do you mean?"

"I actually went out with a man just last month that I met at a museum fundraiser, and we were having a perfectly nice meal when I noticed that he didn't have any hair on his hands."

"So?"

"Then I noticed that he had unusually tanned skin, despite having clearly Nordic features and a Swedish last name."

"What's wrong with a tan, hairless Swede?"

"I suggested that he might have hemochromatosis, a genetic condition which causes iron buildup and results in bronze-tinged skin and loss of body hair, and he didn't take it well."

"Did he have it?"

"I have no idea. He dropped me off after dinner and I never heard from him again."

"Ouch."

Maura nodded. "That's not the first time I've done that. But I think I usually just scare guys off by talking too much, and saying all the wrong things."

"I find that hard to believe. I think you're fun to talk to." Jane's voice was smooth and genuine.

"Really?" Maura smiled brightly and looked pleased. "I guess I didn't need to come up with conversation topics then."

"Conversation topics?"

"I wanted to make sure we had something to talk about, so I wrote down a list of conversation topics."

"That's kind of sweet, actually. Can I see them?"

Maura took out her phone, and opened up a notes application where she had typed in the list. She handed it to Jane, who scanned through them.

"Did you really want to talk about the war in Afghanistan?"

"Not especially, but I thought you might."

Jane chuckled. "The Gregorian calendar and the Napoleonic wars? I don't know what the hell that's even about!"

Maura looked shocked. "I recently read a fascinating article about it. In 1582 Pope Gregory XIII took out ten days from the month of October in order to sync the calendar with the seasons, and he regulated the system of leap years so that they wouldn't get out of sync again."

Jane just watched Maura talk, even though she wasn't really absorbing the information. It was just fun to see her get so animated about such an obscure topic.

"But, you see, the Russians didn't adopt the new system until the 20th century, and when the Russian army was supposed to meet the Austrians to fight against Napoleon no one thought to account for the discrepancies between the calendars, so the Russians showed up ten days late to the battle and Napoleon won!"

Maura finished her lecture with a smile on her face, but then looked slightly hurt when Jane laughed.

Jane found she couldn't stop laughing, but she reassured her friend. "Maura, I'm laughing because it's fun to listen to you talk, I'm not laughing at you! It's really interesting, really, it is. I'm not sure how you ever would have worked that into the conversation, but it's great that you were prepared."

Maura blushed. "You see? This is why I'm awful on dates."

"You just need to relax, go with the flow! Ask me something that you are really interested in, instead of something you got off of Google."

Maura paused and thought for a moment. "There's actually something I wanted to ask you about, but I didn't put it on the list."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Jane took a bite of food.

"I noticed the scars on your hands—can I ask how you got them?"

Maura watched as Jane visibly tensed up and she immediately regretted her words.

"I mean, you don't have to tell me, especially since I just told you I have a tendency to diagnose people—"

"No, it's okay, there's nothing to diagnose. I always hope that people won't notice them, but I guess that's impossible." She took a drink of water and then held up her hands so that Maura could clearly see the scar tissue at the center of both of her palms.

Before she realized what she was doing, Maura took Jane's hands in hers, and rubbed her thumbs over the scars. Jane was silent while she studied the marks.

"They're both so precise—this wasn't an accident."

"Nope. Last year Korsak and I were tracking a missing girl, and we didn't know we were dealing with a serial killer. I was stupid and went into an abandoned house without waiting for backup, and the killer knocked me out with a two-by-four. When I came to, I had scalpels in my hands, pinning me to the floor. Korsak found me just before he put another scalpel to my throat."

"Jane, I'm so sorry." Maura kept holding Jane's hands, completely unsure if it was the right thing to do, but hoping with all her heart that the woman she was touching could feel the sympathy she had for her.

"It could have been a lot worse, I was lucky. There's no permanent damage, just the scars to remind me not to go off half-cocked anymore." Jane smiled. Maura's hands were soft, and warm. She felt a little jolt of electricity when she realized that she hadn't let anyone touch her hands so intimately since the incident. She pulled them away so that she could take another drink of water, and then she changed the subject.

When Jane drove home to apartment late that night, after a meal that had stretched into nearly three hours of conversation, she could still remember how it felt to have Maura touch her hands. She didn't want to admit it, but she hoped that somehow Maura would touch her there again.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

Chapter 3

Maura stood in front of the bulletin board in the hallway at the police station trying to decide what to do. She had been staring at the sign-up sheet for at least five minutes.

Every year Boston PD hosted a "Cops at the Sox" night for department employees and their families, and Maura was considering putting her name on the list for a ticket. Jane had already signed up—her name in slanted, left-handed block letters was near the top of the list. That gave Maura some confidence, but she still hesitated. She knew nothing about baseball, and the thought of spending several hours with cops and detectives that she barely knew (other than Jane, of course) was not exactly appealing. But it did seem to be the perfect event to test the progress she had made over the past several weeks in her self-administered immersion therapy program.

Just as she had finished printing her name, Jane came around the corner.

"Hey, Maura, are you going to go to the game?" Jane looked a bit shocked to see Maura writing her name down on the list, but also happy.

"Yes, I thought I would give baseball a try, since everyone around here seems to enjoy the games so much."

"Cool, we always have a great time." Jane picked up the pen hanging near the sign-up sheet and added a +2 to her name.

"Plus two?" Maura looked at Jane quizzically. "Who are you bringing?"

"Ma and pop. They come pretty much every year, but I wanted to double check with them before I put them on the list. What about you, are you bringing anyone?"

"I, um, well, I hadn't considered it—does everyone bring someone?" Maura almost regretted her decision to go to the game, since it seemed there were complications already. There was literally no one that she could invite to go with her.

"No, not necessarily. You can sit with me and the rest of the Rizzolis as long as you can handle their craziness. Ma's been dying to meet you anyway. Just don't be surprised if she tries to set you up with someone before the third inning."

Maura laughed, feeling relieved that Jane had invited her to sit with her family. At least she knew she wouldn't be alone.

Jane started heading down the hall to her office, but she called out to Maura as she walked. "Can dinner wait until eight tonight? That's probably the earliest I can get out of here."

"Sure, I have plenty of work to keep me busy until then. Just come downstairs when you're ready."

Maura actually didn't have enough official work to keep her busy until eight, but it was going to take a lot of research to get ready for the baseball game. She headed downstairs to her office formulating a list of information she needed to gather over the next two weeks—appropriate clothing, the history of baseball, statistics for the players . . .

* * *

The best part of the game for Maura was the car ride to Fenway Park. She drove, with Jane as her only passenger, and they chatted comfortably the whole way. Jane had approved of her outfit—jeans, a blue t-shirt, and a Red Sox jacket that she had purchased online. Actually, she had purchased the entire outfit for the event, right down to the red socks and white sneakers she wore on her feet. Jane had giggled at the socks, but Maura was still assured that she wouldn't look totally out of place.

Maura was right—she didn't look out of place, but she did feel out of place. She met Jane's parents, Frank and Angela, and they seemed perfectly pleasant, but it was nearly impossible to try to talk to them as the game progressed. Jane sat on her right, and Frost and Korsak were to her left, but they had brought dates. Jane was constantly in and out of her seat, as she reacted to various plays in the game, talked with her friends and colleagues, and brought beers from the concessions stand and passed them around.

Jane offered to bring Maura a diet coke, since she didn't like beer, but Maura refused because she didn't want to risk having to use the stadium restroom.

Maura had learned all of the ins and outs of baseball in her preparation for the game, but it turned out the actual experience was quite different from what she had researched. The seats were far from the field so it was hard to follow the action of the game, and most people seemed to be paying more attention to other fans, to the myriad of snacks available, and to the supplemental activities that the park provided during the intervals between innings.

She was nearly hit in the head with a bag of peanuts thrown in her general direction by a vendor, someone sitting above her splashed his beer all over her jacket, and no one seemed the slightest bit interested in the information she had accumulated about the history of the Red Sox.

Jane had tried to listen to her a couple of times, and seemed quite interested to know that the team hadn't started wearing actual red stockings until 1908, but sadly that was as far as she got into the history of Red Sox uniforms.

By the sixth inning, Maura had withdrawn more and more into herself. She watched Jane interact with her family and friends—she laughed so easily, cheered as loud as anyone, and was entirely lacking in self-consciousness. It was clear that she was having fun, and in fact that this was the sort of activity she had the most fun doing. Jane seemed to genuinely enjoy their dinners together, and even the movies they sometimes attended on the weekends, but Maura had never seen her friend quite this animated. She knew it was irrational, but she felt hurt that she had never made Jane this happy.

Maura wondered how she had ever thought that someone like Jane Rizzoli would want to be friends with someone like her.

By nine o'clock the game was over, and Maura had never been so relieved in all her life. Jane tried to convince her to come with her and some of the other detectives and cops to a nearby bar, but she turned down the invitation and made a quick exit. She had definitely had enough immersion therapy for one day.

* * *

Maura's phone rang just a few hours after she had dropped off to sleep that night. She didn't recognize the caller id.

"Isles," she answered.

"Maura? It's Jane."

Maura instantly felt more alert. "Jane? What's going on, do we have a case?"

"No, I, um, kind of need a ride home."

Maura looked at the clock on her bedside table.

"Jane, it's 1:42 in the morning. Where in the world are you?"

"I'm at a bar downtown, and they're closing up and I don't have a ride. Everyone must have left without me, and I kind of lost my shoes."

"Your shoes?"

"And—some other stuff."

"Jane—"

"Maura, I'm sorry, but could you please come and get me? I don't have anyone else to call and I don't have enough money for a cab." Jane's voice sounded small and tired, and even over the phone Maura could tell she was definitely drunk.

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can."

When Maura pulled up in front of the bar Jane was standing outside. She looked horrible, and since it was cold and she didn't have a jacket, it was clear that the "other stuff" Jane had indicated that she had lost included her bra.

Jane sank into the passenger seat and looked as though she might pass out.

"Jane, what in the world? You look terrible, you're only half dressed, and your feet—your feet are bleeding, Jane!"

"Can we just go, Maura, please?"

Maura pulled out into traffic, headed for Jane's apartment, but she wasn't about to stop questioning her friend.

"Please tell me what happened, Jane, I'm worried."

"Nothing to worry about. I just shouldn't have gotten into a strip poker game when I was this drunk."

"Strip poker? Really? You lost your shoes and your bra in a strip poker game?"

"Shit, you can tell I lost my bra?"

"Yes, I can tell, unfortunately. How much did you drink?"

"I don't know—a lot. More than usual."

"You aren't some sorority girl, you know—a woman in your position really shouldn't behave this way."

"Well, you aren't my mother, either, so you can just leave me the fuck alone."

Maura stopped talking and looked straight ahead. They drove in silence for several minutes before Jane suddenly told Maura to stop the car.

"What? Why?"

"Maura, stop the car before I puke all over it!"

Maura pulled over just in time, and Jane opened the door and vomited violently into the street. She gripped the door handle, doubled over and hanging out of the car, for several more minutes. When she sat back up Maura handed her a small bottle of mouthwash that she kept in her purse. Jane tipped some of the liquid into her mouth, swished it around, spit into the street again, and then closed the car door. Maura gripped the steering wheel and kept driving without saying a word.

When they reached Jane's apartment Maura walked up to the door with her friend.

"I'm fine, Maura, you can go home and go back to bed. I'm sorry I got you up."

"No, I need to look at your feet. They're a mess." Jane looked down at her feet, and at the smears of blood she was leaving on the sidewalk. She didn't say anything else, just unlocked the door and let herself and Maura in.

Maura had never been in Jane's apartment before, so she just followed Jane back into the bedroom. Jane stripped off her jeans and lay face down on the bed without saying anything.

"Jane, I'm sorry but I have to turn on the light to look at your feet." Jane muttered something that sounded like 'okay' so Maura flipped the light switch and then sat on the end of the bed to inspect her patient. After a few moments she headed to the bathroom and rummaged through the cupboards until she found tweezers, antiseptic, and bandaids. It took only a few minutes for her to extract two shards of glass from Jane's right foot and get her cleaned up. Then she switched off the light and went looking for a linen closet. She found two blankets—one she put over Jane, and the other she used herself, curling up on the couch in the living room.

Several hours later she awoke to the sound of retching. She got up, found a glass in the kitchen cabinet, filled it with water, and headed back to the bathroom. Jane was sitting on the tile floor, resting her head against the wall. The room smelled of alcohol and vomit, and Maura felt a wave of nausea pass over her. She handed Jane the glass of water and went looking for more mouthwash, first taking a swig herself before passing it to Jane.

"I'm sorry, Maura." That was all Jane could say before a low sob escaped her throat. Silent tears began running down her face.

Maura had witnessed enough social interactions to know that she should say that it was okay, that she didn't mind, and that everything was going to be fine, but she couldn't do it. She just sat on the floor opposite Jane and sighed.

"Why did you have to go out with those guys, Jane? And why did you have to drink so much? I know I sound like your mother, but this just doesn't seem like the Jane I know. I wish you had just come back with me after the game."

"You don't understand, Maura. You aren't a cop, you don't know what it's like. They have to see that I can hold my liquor like they can. If they challenge me to take shots, or play strip poker, I have to do it."

"Really? Why would someone as smart and confident as you need to prove yourself to anyone? Everyone admires you, you're friends with everyone. It just doesn't make sense."

"Well, not everything outside of your giant brain makes sense, Maura. The world is a messy place."

"I'm beginning to realize that, yes." Maura leaned her head back against the wall. This woman puzzled her, producing so many conflicting feelings that she didn't know what to do. The little voice inside of her came crawling out of the dusty corner in her mind that she had banished it to, seeming to say, 'I told you so, having so-called friends really isn't worth the trouble.'

After several minutes of silence, Maura stood up.

"I think the sun's about up, so I'm going to head home. Make sure you drink plenty of water, okay? And I took some glass out of your feet so try to keep bandages on them."

Jane nodded. "Okay. I really am sorry, Maura. I promise I won't do this again."

"You won't get drunk like this again, or you won't call me for a ride when you do get drunk like this again?"

Jane looked at her, but then leaned her head back and closed her eyes without saying anything. When she opened them, Maura was gone.

Jane slept for several more hours and then went to the kitchen for more water. She hoped against hope that Maura had decided to stay, but all she found was a pillow and a blanket on the couch. Jane sat down and held the blanket to her face, breathing in the scent Maura had left behind. Then she wrapped herself in the blanket and lay down on the pillow, letting the tears flow freely.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

Chapter 4

Jane slammed her fist down on her desk and then buried her face in her hands. She felt tears threaten, so she dug her fingernails into her scalp and concentrated on the resulting pricks of pain in order to keep them at bay. She breathed deeply several times, in and out, in and out.

She heard someone approaching her desk, and knew immediately who it was. She was trying to walk quietly, but those clicking heels always gave her away.

Maura.

It had been a horrible week, starting the week before with the baseball game, and somehow Maura had managed to witness every shitty minute. And now here she was again. Jane wondered how much the other woman had heard of the conversation—or, rather, shouting match—she had just had with Cavanaugh, her boss.

Jane took another deep breath and looked up, preparing herself for another fight.

* * *

After her disastrous Friday night of shots and strip poker, Jane spent the remainder of the weekend alone in her apartment. If her mother had known what she was doing (and thank goodness she didn't) she would have smacked her and told her to stop stewing and just apologize already. But the hours of solitude only strengthened Jane's stubbornness and by Monday morning she had convinced herself that Maura was the one who should be apologizing to her.

Back at work, she had just sat down at her desk and pressed the "on" button on her computer tower when detective Crowe walked by and flung something at her. Surprised, she caught it and then felt the sting of embarrassment when she realized what it was.

It was a bra. Not her bra, but one that was much too big for her petite frame. Definitely not the one she had lost in the poker game.

"Thought you might be missing something, Rizzoli," drawled Crowe, and Jane heard not-so-subtle chuckles coming from nearly every desk in the room. Even her partner, Frost, was smothering a laugh.

Jane felt pricks of heat in her cheeks and she almost let embarrassment take over, but she dug down deep and managed to think of a quick comeback. She hooked her finger through one of the straps of the bra and pretended to inspect the fabric.

"No, I don't think this is mine, Crowe—in fact, isn't it your mother's? Did your girlfriend kick you out so you had to raid your mother's underwear drawer? You'd better give this back to her, or she'll quit feeding you dinner."

Jane flung the bra back at Crowe as loud guffaws echoed throughout the room. Jane felt relief wash over her as she had successfully deflected the teasing, but then noticed that Maura had entered the room.

Maura just pursed her lips and walked over to detective Michaels' desk, where she dropped off a file. Then she left without saying anything.

Later, that day, Maura cornered Jane in the hall and pulled her into the ladies' room. After checking to make sure they were alone, she spoke in a low whisper.

"What Crowe did to you this morning, Jane—that's sexual harassment. You should tell Cavanaugh."

Jane groaned. "Maura, that kind of thing happens all the time. It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal. You don't have to—"

"Maura, stay out of it." Jane emphasized each word carefully. "I can handle this myself. Everyone's forgotten about it already, I'm not going to bring it up again."

Maura looked away from Jane and leaned against the sink. She changed the subject.

"Are the cuts on your feet healing okay?"

"Yes, they're fine. Thanks."

"Okay, well, if you notice any signs of infection, like swelling, redness, increased pain—"

"I'll be sure to let you know, Dr. Isles."

Maura bristled visibly—Jane hadn't called her by her formal title in weeks. She didn't say anything about it though, just looked at Jane steadily and then walked out of the ladies' room and went back to her office.

Jane didn't see Maura again until Tuesday afternoon, again at another inopportune moment. She had taken her mother out to lunch for her birthday, and Angela had unfortunately continued with her yearly tradition of telling her daughter that the only birthday present she could ever want was for Jane to get married and have children.

Jane tried half a dozen times to engage her mother in some topic of conversation other than her pathetic love life, but somehow her mother always resurrected the subject. It was exhausting, and by the time her mother pulled the car up in front of headquarters she'd had enough. She got out of the passenger side and slammed the door behind her.

"Dammit, ma, can you just stop it? Please?"

Angela got out from behind the driver's seat, walked around the back of the car, and stood close to her daughter.

"Jane, just tell me you'll _try_. I just want you to be happy! There are lots of nice guys around—just open yourself up a little, maybe wear a dress now and then—"

"Mother, we are done with this conversation." Jane practically stomped her feet in exasperation. Then she paused. "Wait. I changed my mind, we are not done." She took a deep breath and continued in an even tone. "I'm going to tell you, once and for all. I am not the kind of person who gets married and has kids. It is not going to happen for me. I hate that you nag me about this all of the time because it makes me feel like there's something wrong with me. But I'm _fine_, ma. I'm fine the way I am. Please, just—"

Angela's expression suddenly changed and she interrupted her daughter. "Oh, Maura, how nice to see you!"

Jane whirled around. Maura was standing behind her, and the look on her face clearly indicated that she had just heard everything Jane had said. She tried to cover it up though.

"Mrs. Rizzoli—I thought I would come over and say hello and happy birthday!"

"Thank you, sweetie, did Jane tell you? Of course she did, you two spend so much time together. I'm so glad Janie has such a good friend." She squeezed Maura's arm.

Jane pulled herself together and interrupted the conversation.

"Okay, ma, I have to get back to work now. Just—think about what I said, okay?"

"Okay, okay. Maura, please try to talk some sense into my daughter, will you?"

Maura laughed awkwardly and nodded, and then she and Jane walked into the station together.

Once Angela was out of earshot, Maura asked Jane if she was okay.

Jane laughed off the question and said in a light tone, "Of course I'm okay, my mom's just her usual crazy self. She'll never be happy until I'm barefoot and pregnant, spending my days making gnocchi for my husband. It's no big deal—I can handle it." She quickened her step toward the elevator.

"I'm late getting back—I'll see you later, Maura."

The challenges of Monday and Tuesday were nothing compared to Wednesday. Wednesday was the day she had been dreading for two weeks, ever since she'd received the court summons. The serial killer who had attacked her, Charles Hoyt, was on trial in a separate case, and the prosecution needed Jane to give her testimony.

Jane hadn't told anyone except Korsak, Frost, and Cavanaugh about the summons, and she tried to spend the morning as normally as possible, hoping that work would keep her mind off things. She was due in court at 1:30, and by noon she was fighting a bad case of nerves. She did not want to see Hoyt again. Whenever the image of his face flashed through her brain, she had to fight off nausea.

She remembered something that Korsak had told her at some point during her first year as a detective when she was struggling to deal with the pressures that came with her new job:

_You know how the TV people always show swimmers and gymnasts at the Olympics just before their events? And they're always listening to their music, getting inside their heads, trying to focus on the race or whatever? That's what you've got to do. When things get tough, you have to go to your cop place, and focus on the task at hand. Shut everything else out, and never let anyone know that you're afraid._

Jane had thought back on those words many, many times throughout her career, and as she waited for her court appointment she took out her ipod, pretending to do paperwork while she focused on finding her "cop place," as Korsak put it.

When she walked through the courtroom and up to the witness stand, no one could see anything other than a confident, beautiful detective who sat in the chair and took the required oath in a clear, even voice. Jane concentrated on her body language, forcing her muscles to behave, and willing her stomach to stop lurching. She walked with her head held high and her shoulders straight. When she sat down, she looked at Hoyt with a steely glare, telling herself over and over again,

_I am not afraid of you_.

She almost believed it.

Hoyt leered at her, a twisted smile on his lips. His hair was lank and greasy, and his eyes bored into her so deeply that she had to look away. She hoped no one noticed.

The prosecutor began asking questions, and Jane answered clearly and succinctly. She had given her testimony so many times that she didn't even really need to think about it. As she explained how she was looking for the victim in the basement of an abandoned home when she was hit on the head from behind, she glanced at Hoyt again.

He saw her look at him, and then spread his hands on the table in front of him. Slowly, deliberately, he began to rub his right thumb into the palm of his left hand.

She knew exactly what he was doing. She hated the fact that he knew, he _knew_ that she did the same thing to her scarred palms dozens of times a day.

She paused so long in her testimony that the prosecutor had to prompt her to continue.

"Detective, please explain what happened after you returned to consciousness."

She hated this part.

"I was lying on the floor, and Hoyt had put a scalpel through each of my palms." She gripped the arms of the witness chair, determined not to touch her scars or let Hoyt see her hands.

"He leaned over me, touching my face, making sure that I was waking up. He had another scalpel in his hand."

The prosecutor asked another question. "Did the defendant say anything to you?"

"He said that he was going to cut my throat, slowly. He said he didn't want me to die too quickly, before he had his fun."

"Those were his exact words? 'Had his fun?'"

"Yes." Jane could remember the rank smell of his breath as he had said those words, and she fought off yet another wave of nausea.

"And then what happened?"

"He started to unbuckle his belt, keeping one hand on my throat. Then he unzipped his pants. That was as far as he got though; my partner, Vince Korsak, came down the stairs then and when he saw what Hoyt was doing he shot him."

"Thank you, detective. You may step down."

When Jane stood up, she saw Korsak sitting toward the back of the courtroom. Sitting next to him, she was surprised to discover, was Maura. Jane's heart skipped a beat but she returned to her seat without making eye contact. She didn't notice that Maura's eyes were filled with tears.

On Friday, Jane made a bad decision. A body had been found outside of a downtown club, and she had brought in the club's bouncer for questioning. Satisfied with the answers he provided in her interview, she let him go because they had nothing to hold him on. He disappeared, and now all of the evidence was pointing to him, including fingerprints left on the murder weapon.

When Cavanaugh found out, he was furious. He came storming into the bullpen.

"Rizzoli! What the hell were you thinking letting Carson go? How am I going to explain that we had the bastard but we let him go?"

Jane immediately became defensive. "We had no evidence! The crime lab hadn't found any fingerprints—what was I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to do your fucking job, and figure out a way to hold him for longer than twenty minutes!"

As the shouting continued, the few detectives that had been in the bullpen snuck out, leaving Jane and Cavanaugh alone. After the heated exchange continued for several more minutes, Cavanaugh rubbed his temples and then lowered his voice.

"Rizzoli, I know this was a tough week for you, giving testimony against Hoyt again. But you have to tell me if you aren't up to handling cases. I can't let this happen again."

Embarrassment and shame flooded through Jane's body. She responded firmly, in a low voice. "This has nothing to do with Hoyt. I'm _fine_. I can handle this case, boss. We'll get this guy, I swear." She sat down at her desk, looking at Cavanaugh with what she hoped was a confident stare. He seemed to believe her, and he walked out of the room, leaving Jane to punch her desk and then try to recover her composure before someone came in.

Why did that someone have to be Maura, Jane asked herself.

She looked up at Maura, pulling her face into a mask of self-control.

But when she looked Maura in the eyes, everything fell away. Her beautiful hazel eyes were filled with compassion, understanding, and love. Jane melted, and choked out just one word.

"Maura." Her voice was so quiet it could barely be heard.

Standing in the hallway listening to Cavanaugh berate her friend, Maura found herself hit by a wave of understanding that was so forceful it nearly took her breath away. All of the events of the last week had shown her that the confident image Jane projected was just that—an image. A façade. She knew Jane was feeling insecurities and emotions that she herself had felt many times—she just dealt with them in a different way. The pieces of the puzzle were finally fitting into place.

When Jane whispered her name, it was all she could do to stop herself from wrapping Jane in her arms and holding her until the pain went away. But she knew this wasn't the time-Jane would just pull away.

"Jane, I'm going home now—will you please come with me?" She asked, softly.

Jane took another deep breath. "I can't—the guys will be back soon and if I leave now it will look like I'm running away. Don't worry, I'm fine, I can—"

"Jane Rizzoli, don't you dare say that you can "handle it" one more time today."

Jane looked Maura in the eyes again, and smiled weakly. "Go ahead and go, I'll be there as soon as I can."

When Maura opened her front door an hour later, Jane was standing there running her fingers through her hair.

"Why do you always look like you're about to do a photo shoot?" asked Jane, trying to keep things light despite the obvious fatigue in her voice.

Maura just smiled and led Jane into her living room.

"Would you like a beer?"

Jane thought for a second. "No, maybe just a glass of water?"

Maura came back with a glass, and they both leaned back on the couch, side by side. Jane took a long drink of water and then set the glass down. Maura put her feet up on the coffee table and Jane followed suit. They sat in silence for several minutes.

"Thanks for coming to the trial, Maura."

"Of course." Maura rubbed her hand lightly over Jane's arm.

That was all the reassurance Jane needed. She turned toward Maura and curled up into a ball, resting her head on Maura's shoulder. Maura put her arms around her and held her tightly, stroking her back and running her fingers through her hair.

After a few minutes of near silence, punctuated only by quiet sobs escaping from Jane, Maura spoke, quietly.

"Jane, I'm so sorry about how I treated you last week."

"What?" Jane pulled back and looked at Maura. "I should be apologizing to you."

"No, Jane, I didn't know . . . you were right, I had no idea . . . no wonder you want to just get drunk and escape. I just didn't understand, but now I think I do."

Jane relaxed into Maura's arms again, breathing deeply.

"Jane, I just want you to know—" Maura paused, struggling for the right words.

"Jane, I've always been alone, and I was jealous of you because it seemed like you had this great family, and you get along so well with your colleagues. But you feel alone a lot too, don't you?"

Maura pulled back a bit and looked Jane in the eyes, taking her friend's face in both of her hands. She wiped away a few lingering tears with her thumbs.

"I . . . I just don't want you to feel alone, Jane. You don't have to do everything alone, if you don't want to."

Jane didn't say anything, she just held Maura tighter. The tears stopped, and for the first time all week, she felt at peace.

A/N: This could be a good stopping point for this story—let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

A/N: Thanks for the encouraging reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 5

In all of her adult life, Jane Rizzoli had never really had a close female friend. She got along well with her male colleagues, and they and her family were her main source of social interaction.

Now that she and Maura were friends—best friends, really—she realized what she had been missing.

Jane loved learning all of Maura's secrets—things Maura didn't think fit with her professional persona and thus tried to hide.

Like the fact that when she was angry, she cursed. She didn't curse at people, only at things or situations, and only when she was alone. Or thought she was alone. But she hadn't been able to hide this particular habit from Jane for long, and the detective found it incredibly amusing—especially the fact that Maura had a very low tolerance for any sort of vehicular infractions and dealt with it by swearing loudly from behind the wheel. It made for some very interesting car rides.

Jane also discovered that Maura couldn't lie. If she tried to fudge the truth just a bit, she could get away with it. But an outright lie made her hyperventilate. Once she realized this, it made getting the secrets out of her that much easier.

That's how she found out Maura's true taste in film.

One Saturday afternoon, just a couple of weeks after the disastrous baseball game, Jane called Maura and asked if she wanted to go to a foreign film festival. It wasn't something she would normally do, but she knew Maura liked that sort of thing so when she saw the ad in the paper for the festival she jumped at the chance to make Maura happy.

Together they chose a double feature—a French film and then an Italian film both dealing with dysfunctional families in the interwar period. Maura seemed excited about the decision, and that made Jane happy, so she didn't even complain about having to read subtitles as the first movie began.

After about an hour, Jane looked over at Maura and was shocked to discover that her friend was fast asleep. Her head was resting against the back of the theater seat, her eyes were closed, and her mouth was slightly open.

Jane waited ten minutes and when Maura didn't open her eyes she decided that she wasn't going to sit through the movie if Maura wasn't even going to watch it. So she poked her in the arm.

"Maura," she whispered. "Wake up."

"What?" Maura's eyes flew open, and her head jerked up.

"You've been asleep for the last 15 minutes, at least."

"No, I wasn't."

Jane looked at her piercingly. "Really? Were you meditating then-during a movie?"

Maura looked guilty. "Okay, I guess I was asleep. Sorry."

"Maura, do you like this movie?"

Maura squirmed before answering, "No."

"Come on, let's go." They walked out of the theater, and once they were in the hall Jane continued her interrogation.

"Why did you say you wanted to see these movies? Is there something wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Jane, I guess I'm just tired?"

Jane looked her in the eyes again, without saying anything, just raising her eyebrows.

Finally, Maura spilled her guts.

"I hate foreign films! I know I'm _supposed_ to like them so I've seen a lot of them but unless a movie is funny I just really don't like it."

Jane was surprised, but then a slow grin spread across her face. "What do you mean, funny?"

"You know, comedies."

"What kind of comedies?"

"Funny ones?" Maura smirked.

"Maura Isles, give me a list of the dvds that you own." Jane used her best cop voice.

"The Hangover, Talladega Nights, Bruce Almighty . . ."

Maura trailed off with a look of embarrassment on her face.

Jane tried not to laugh at Maura's distress. "Maura, why didn't you just tell me what kind of movies you liked? Why did you say you wanted to come here tonight?"

"Well, you suggested it, and so I thought you wanted to go!"

"Well, I only suggested it because I thought _you_ would like it!"

The two women burst out laughing.

Jane ran her fingers through her hair. "So, do you think if we held our own film festival at your house, you'd be able to stay awake?"

Maura tilted her head and paused for a moment, in that adorable way that Maura always did when she was trying to find a serious answer to a sarcastic question.

"Yes, I believe I could."

* * *

Maura couldn't believe how much fun it was to have a best friend. Although the two women both had hectic work schedules, they managed to find time for several meals together each week. Maura looked forward to every lunch and every dinner. They spent a lot of their weekend time together too—Saturday nights had become movie nights, and Jane usually spent the night in her guest room so they could go out for Sunday brunch the next morning.

Even her time at work was now more fun. She loved the fact that Jane sent her text messages throughout the day—so many that Maura had had to change her service plan because she kept going over the limit. Most of the texts were rather silly (what do you think Crowe would look like if he got a toupee) or insignificant (Korsak is snoring at his desk again) but Maura smiled at each and every one, because they meant that maybe—just maybe—Jane was thinking about her just as much as she was thinking about Jane.

Maura was so happy that when she met Eric Wagner at a medical criminologist conference she was sure it must be fate.

After all, her friendship with Jane and her immersion therapy program had given her a great deal of confidence. She felt comfortable and at ease with not only Jane, but Frost and Korsak too. The four of them spent nearly every Friday night at the local bar, the Dirty Robber, and Korsak was even teaching her to play darts.

So she was eager to test her new-found interpersonal skills on a man, and Eric seemed to be the perfect subject.

When Eric called to ask her to dinner, she accepted without hesitation, and then immediately called Jane.

"Jane, guess what."

"Um, you finally found those special boots you were looking for in your size?"

"No, I wish. But this is much more exciting. I have a date!"

"What? With who?"

"With whom, Jane. But never mind. The guy I met at the conference, Eric Wagner? He's perfect, Jane—he's intelligent, successful, and very good looking. And, best of all, he's a doctor, so I won't try to diagnose him!"

"And what makes you so sure of that?" Jane asked, with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"Because if he had any serious disorders or syndromes, he would have already diagnosed himself!"

Jane laughed. Only Maura would think of something like that.

"So when is this date, anyway?"

"Saturday—oh, Jane, I forgot, I guess we'll have to skip movie night this week. Is that okay?"

"Of course, no big deal. Just don't tell my mother that you have a date, or she'll start nagging me twice as hard about my non-existent love life. I can hear her now: 'why can't you be more like Maura, _she_ goes out on dates . . ."

* * *

Jane found it a little difficult to be around Maura after her big date with Eric Wagner. It got even worse after they had a second, and then a third date. Maura was acting a bit like a love-struck teenager, starting every conversation with 'Eric said this,' or 'Eric did that.' She kept sending him text messages and leaving voice mails.

She didn't want to admit it, but she was jealous.

At first she thought she was jealous because Maura was having fun while she was back to Saturday nights taking cooking lessons from her mother. But as the week went on, it became more and more clear that she was jealous because Maura was spending so much time with Eric and not much time at all with her.

And when Maura told her that Eric was a really good kisser—well, that just grossed her out. And made her think about things she didn't want to think about.

She just told herself that she missed her best friend, and that was all there was to it.

Maura and Eric had been seeing each other regularly for about two weeks when Jane had the dream.

It was a Friday morning, and Jane woke up feeling arousal flooding through her, and she realized she'd been having a sexy dream. A very nice sexy dream. She tried to force herself to go back to sleep so she could continue her subconscious amorous activities. There were vague images of kissing—of warm, soft lips and a familiar scent . . .

Jane's eyes flew open as she suddenly recognized the scent and realized who she had been kissing.

Maura.

_I was kissing Maura._

_I was touching Maura's bare skin—god, was Maura naked?_

_I think she was—her hips were pressed up against mine—I was pulling her close to me . . ._

The images were floating away, back into her subconscious, but the feelings—the blood pounding in her ears, her heart racing—those she wouldn't forget.

Jane was grumpy all day, and the only thing getting her through it was knowing that she, Frost, and Korsak would be spending the evening at the Dirty Robber. She avoided going anywhere near the morgue.

The Dirty Robber was packed, but luckily Frost and Korsak had already snagged a booth before Jane arrived. She plopped down next to her former partner and signaled for a beer. When it arrived, she sucked it down so fast that Korsak asked her if something was wrong.

"Nothing, geez, can't a girl drink a beer the way she wants on a Friday night?"

"Sure, Rizzoli, just pace yourself—you don't want to end up losing your shoes again, do you?"

Jane glared at Korsak, and signaled for another beer. "Don't even think about bringing _that_ up, or I might have to tell Frost about the time you lost a lot more than your shoes—"

"Hey, okay, truce! Let's talk about something else. Hmm, let's see. Frost, what do you want to talk about?"

Barry looked a bit like a deer in headlights, but he cleared his throat and said, "Um, that's too bad about Maura, isn't it."

Jane made a small grunting noise. "Yeah," she nodded and took another drink of her beer. Then she realized that what she thought was 'too bad' about Maura was probably not the same thing that Frost was thinking.

"What do you mean?"

"You mean, you don't know?" Korsak was incredulous. "The way you chicks talk, I would have thought she'd have told you before anyone."

"Told me what?"

"Oh, she and that guy she was seeing split up. She seemed pretty broken up about it."

"What? When did this happen?"

"Last night, I guess."

"Yeah," interjected Barry, "I saw her leaving the morgue early today, and she looked terrible."

So many emotions were flooding through Jane, she just sat there staring across the table at her partner.

"I can't believe she didn't tell me. And you guys—she's upset, and you don't do anything? Did you even ask if she wanted to come out with us tonight?"

"What do we look like Rizzoli, shrinks?" Korsak snorted. "You go talk to her, if you're so worried."

"Yeah, I think I should." She immediately scrambled out of the booth and threaded her way through the crowd, leaving her colleagues to cover her tab.

Thirty minutes later, Maura opened her front door and found Jane there, holding up a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

"I got your favorite—brownie cheesecake. Wanna split it with me?"

Maura looked tired and sad. She was wearing sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt—Jane had never seen her dress so casually, not even on Saturday movie night.

Maura let her in without saying anything. She sat on the couch while Jane went into the kitchen and came back with two spoons. As she was peeling the top off of the container, Maura finally spoke.

"I guess the guys told you that I broke up with Eric."

"Yeah, they did. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I made an idiot of myself, like usual. That's what happened."

Jane reached out and squeezed Maura's arm. "What do you mean, sweetie?"

Maura looked as though she might cry, but she paused and pulled herself together. She took a big bite of ice cream, as though she were trying to fortify herself.

"Jane, I'm just—I'm just so bad with people, and with men I'm completely hopeless! I really liked Eric, and so many times when I've liked guys I've always held back, I've always been afraid to be myself, you know? So I decided this time I would try something different. I just threw everything out there, and flirted, and made sure he knew that I liked him. I sent him text messages, I learned about all of his likes and dislikes so that I could hold up my end of the conversation. I even read in a magazine that guys like to get flowers just like girls do, so I sent him a bouquet at his office."

"That doesn't sound so bad—I'm sure he was flattered." Jane took a spoonful of ice cream for herself, and then set the container on the coffee table.

Maura snorted. "Hardly. Last night he took me to dinner and halfway through dessert he just blurted it out—he said I was smothering him, that I talked so much it made his head hurt, and he hadn't been looking for a serious relationship anyway. I've never been so humiliated in all my life."

"He really said that? You're not exaggerating?" Jane was incredulous.

"He really said that."

"Wow, Maura, then all I can say is that he's an ass, and he doesn't deserve you."

Now there really were tears in Maura's eyes. She reached out and folded herself into Jane's embrace.

After a few moments, Jane pulled back. "Maura, why didn't you tell me about this yesterday? Why did I have to hear it from Frost and Korsak, of all people?"

Maura looked slightly guilty. "I—I don't know, I didn't want to bother you."

Jane knew immediately that Maura was lying.

"Maura. Tell me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Jane, not at all." Maura stood up and began pacing around the room. "I actually drove over to your apartment after dinner. I sat in the car, I could see your light was on but—"

"What, Maura?" Jane spoke softly, but suddenly Maura raised her voice.

"Jane, don't you get it? People don't like me. I'm weird, I talk too much, and I cut open dead people for a living!"

"So? I like you, Maura. You know that."

Maura sat back down on the couch. When she spoke again, it was in a small voice. "But, I thought Eric liked me too. All I could think, sitting there in the car, was that maybe you didn't really like me either. That you were just pretending to like me."

"Oh, Maura, you're such a paranoid little thing aren't you?" Jane turned to face her friend, and then reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Then she put her hands on the blonde's shoulders. "Listen to me carefully, okay? You are my best friend. The best friend I have ever had. I have never once pretended to like you, I actually _do_ like you. I love the way you talk—I could listen to you talk all day. And, to be perfectly honest, I've missed you like crazy the last couple of weeks. I wanted to be happy for you, but I still missed you."

Maura hugged Jane so tight she could hardly breathe.

After a few moments, the two women pulled away from each other, and just sat on the couch in companionable silence. Finally, Maura spoke again.

"I'm still left with the original problem, though."

"What's that?"

"Do you remember on your mom's birthday when you told her that you didn't think marriage was ever going to happen for you? Do you really think that you'll never find a man and settle down?"

Jane flushed as she remembered the dream she had had that morning, but the intensity of that memory gave her assurance that the answer she gave was absolutely true.

"Yup."

"Doesn't that scare you?"

"Nope."

"Well, it scares me."

Jane reached out and took Maura's hand. She laced their fingers together and gave Maura's hand a little squeeze.

"I know it scares you. But it doesn't need to."

Jane sighed with contentment as she felt Maura squeeze her hand back.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

Chapter 6

Jane's feelings for Maura became even stronger when she realized just how insecure her friend actually was. It broke Jane's heart to know that deep down Maura had thought for even a second that Jane was only pretending to like her. It was like Maura believed that there was something so wrong with her that she wasn't worth friendship or love. Jane wanted to be the one to show Maura how wonderful she was. The only one. She wanted Maura all to herself—the incident with Eric Wagner had made that abundantly clear. After Maura's breakup with Eric, she vowed to herself that she was going to make this happen.

The problem was, she didn't have a clue how.

All her life, Jane had been attracted to women, but she had never really done anything about it. In high school when she had crushes on girls, she was too scared to act on her feelings-mostly because she thought there was something horribly wrong with her. She didn't know anyone who was openly gay, and had no one to talk about it with. As an adult, she finally realized that the feelings she had for women weren't going to go away, and she decided to try things out at a couple of lesbian bars. She never got very far though-the idea of sex with a stranger didn't appeal to her, and she never let herself get into anything that might lead to a real relationship. Every time she found herself attracted to a particular woman, she always asked herself whether it was worth turning her life upside down for the chance to be involved in a committed relationship. She'd never found anyone that she had been willing to do that for.

Until Maura.

She found it exciting that so many of the things she loved about Maura were so unexpected. Even though she herself hated dressing up, she loved that Maura did. She had hated being in school and having teachers drone on about history and literature, but when Maura did it she was so open and sincere about her love for all things scientific or intellectual that Jane couldn't help but find it interesting. Jane had never been much of a rule follower, but the way Maura had internalized her own code of ethics and then refused to deviate from it was infuriating and admirable all at the same time.

Jane tried not to think about Maura sexually, but that was becoming increasingly difficult. She found herself daydreaming at inopportune moments, thinking mostly about kissing Maura's breasts.

And her neck.

And—other things.

And when she thought about Maura touching her, with her long, beautiful fingers . . .

She was spending a lot of extra time at the gym, working out her frustrations on a boxing bag.

Her frustration got even worse one Friday night when they didn't go to the Dirty Robber with the guys.

Maura had called Jane that afternoon in a panic.

"Jane, is there any way you can get off work early?"

"I don't know, Maur, I'm trying to wrap a few things up—what's going on?"

"I was hoping you would help me pick out an outfit."

Now it was Jane's turn to panic, but she tried not to let it show in her voice. "Why, got a hot date tonight?"

"Jane, be serious. My parents are in town, and there's some sort of reception at BCU for my father and they asked me to come."

Jane was immediately relieved. "Your parents are in town and you didn't tell me?"

"I only found out yesterday, and they thought the reception was on Saturday but it turns out it's tonight. Is there any way that you can come over? I could really use a second opinion—my mother is always so critical of my clothing choices."

"I don't know what help I'll be, but I can probably be there by six."

"Perfect, I'll see you then."

* * *

Jane had to knock on the door twice before she heard Maura fiddling with the lock and then cursing when it stuck. Finally, she opened the door a crack, leaving the chain on. She peeked around the corner of the door, and all Jane could see was half of Maura's face and the sleeve of a bathrobe.

"Jane, what are you doing here?"

"What the hell, Maura, you asked me to come over!"

"I thought you were coming at six—it's barely 5:15!"

"I got done early and you sounded so panicked on the phone that I came right over—are you going to let me in or not?"

"But," Maura sputtered, and then said in a hushed tone, "I just got out of the shower and I don't have any makeup on!"

"So what?" Jane was thoroughly confused.

"I don't want you to see me without makeup, I look horrible."

"Maura, you're being silly. Just let me in, I don't care about makeup!"

Maura huffed. "Fine." She shut the door, slid off the chain, and opened it back up again. When Jane walked in, she pulled a fluffy pink towel off her head, releasing her just-washed hair, and stood right in front of Jane with her hands on her hips.

"There, now you've seen me with no makeup and wet hair." Then she turned and stalked back to her bedroom. Jane followed her, laughing. "Sweetie, you've seen me looking about a thousand times worse—"

Maura went into the bathroom and shut the door, so Jane made herself comfortable on Maura's bed. She had just discovered another one of Maura's secrets—she apparently didn't want anyone to see her without her perfectly done hair and makeup. It seemed to upset her even more than a wrinkled dress—and that was saying something. Jane realized that in all the nights she had spent in Maura's guest room, Maura had always been up making breakfast with perfectly styled hair before she'd even had a chance to shower.

After about fifteen minutes Maura emerged from the bathroom looking much calmer and much more like her normal self, although she was still in her bathrobe. Her wet hair was neatly combed.

Jane thought she looked absolutely beautiful.

For the next hour, Maura went in and out of her walk-in closet, modeling different outfits for Jane, who gave her honest opinion on each one. She changed in the closet and Jane didn't dare try to sneak a peek, but she found the thought of Maura in her underwear only a few steps and a thin closet door away very distracting.

Despite her preoccupied state, she couldn't help noticing that Maura didn't really take Jane's opinion about any of the outfits, as she found something wrong with each one no matter how great Jane said it was.

"Maura, are you sure you aren't over thinking this? I mean, they're your parents—does it really matter what you wear?"

Maura looked at Jane incredulously. "I told you, my mother is very critical about my appearance."

"So's mine, and you don't see me worrying about it."

"Well, that's because you would look good in a potato sack."

Jane was shocked to hear Maura say that, and more than a little bit flattered. She pressed Maura further.

"What? Well, so would you then!"

Maura snorted. "Hardly. You have classic features, Jane. I don't. So I have to have just the right outfit in order to look—presentable. I've told you before that my mother didn't really interfere with my life much as I was growing up, but she did at least teach me that even if I didn't have the right looks, the right clothes could make up some of the difference."

Maura studied two different dresses as she said this, so she didn't see the horrified look on Jane's face.

"Maura, are you saying that your mother told you that she didn't think you were pretty?" Jane got up off the bed and forced her friend to look at her.

"Well, not in so many words, but—"

"But what? You're gorgeous, my friend. Gorgeous in one of your designer dresses or sweatpants or a bathrobe."

Maura looked slightly embarrassed and blushed a little. She reached out and squeezed Jane's arm.

"That's sweet of you to say, Jane, really, but it's okay. I'm happy with how I look, most of the time anyway. But I'll show you something, and you'll see what I mean. I'll be right back." Maura returned in a few seconds with a photo album. She opened it to the first page and pointed to a photo.

"See? That's my mother. She actually modeled for awhile to help pay for college. Classic beauty. It's really a shame she couldn't have children to pass on those genes."

Maura stated this just like she would any other scientific fact, and it made Jane's heart break just a little bit more.

"Yeah, she's really pretty. But that doesn't mean—"

Maura flipped through a few pages and then pointed at another picture. "And that's me at fifteen."

"You're adorable! Look at your cute boarding school uniform—"

"You're missing the point, Jane! Do you see the glasses, the braces, the acne? Not exactly classic beauty."

Jane tried to protest further, but Maura wouldn't have any of it. She was too distracted by the need to get ready so she wouldn't be late to the reception. She took the photo album out of Jane's hands and set it on the bed.

"Okay, I think I've made my decision about the outfit. So go out in the living room and watch TV or something, and I'll come out when I'm ready."

Jane waited patiently, in utter disbelief. She just couldn't believe that Maura didn't know how gorgeous she was, and that she didn't need makeup and designer dresses to try to compensate for not having 'classic beauty.' Whatever that meant.

All Jane knew was that Maura was sexy as hell, and she wanted to be the one tell her.

And not with words.

She wanted to worship Maura's body the way it deserved to be worshiped. With kisses and caresses and waves of pleasure that started at the top of her head and shot down to her toes.

When Maura came into the living room in her three-inch heels and the perfect little black dress, all Jane wanted to do was rip it right off of her.

Instead, she complimented her profusely, walked her to her car, and drove straight to the gym.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

Chapter 7

Maura was starting to get worried about herself.

She was spending nearly every minute of what spare time she had with Jane, yet it still wasn't enough. Every time Jane was busy with a case and she had to eat a meal alone, she found herself feeling lonely and depressed. And when they did have time to go out to dinner—staying at the restaurant until the wait staff had to shoo them out the door—it still seemed like torture to have to go home alone.

Jane was the first thing she thought about when she woke up in the morning, and the last thing she thought about at night. Even Maura, with her limited experience of close friendships, recognized that something was not quite right.

If only they hadn't had that first sleepover.

It had been Jane's idea, really. Instead of ordering pizza and having their regular Saturday movie night at Maura's, Jane had insisted they spend the evening at her apartment. She wanted to cook, and show off some of the Italian dishes that her mother had taught her over the years. Maura had brought the wine, and then drunk a little too much of it. They watched two movies, and by midnight Maura was in no condition to drive home.

"Maura, you're staying here, no argument."

"Don't be silly, Jane, I'll just call a cab."

"Now you're being silly, Maura," said Jane, imitating her friend's voice, "there's no reason that you can't stay here."

Maura narrowed her eyes, trying not to smile but not quite succeeding. Jane seemed exceptionally funny tonight, and she wasn't sure if it was the wine or the fatigue.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"In my bed—I'll sleep on the couch."

"That's not fair, why should you give up your bed for me?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"What if I said I should sleep on the couch?"

"I would say, you're the guest, and I'm happy to take the couch . . . but, there's no reason we can't both sleep in my bed. Didn't you ever have a sleepover when you were a kid?"

"No, I don't think I did." Maura looked pensive for a minute. "Unless you count boarding school—but I had my own room there."

Jane grinned. "Well, then I think it's time you experienced a sleepover. C'mon." Jane took Maura by the wrist.

Maura continued to protest as she was dragged down the hall into the bedroom. "But I don't have any pajamas, or any of my cosmetics, or—"

"Ah, now we're getting to the bottom of things!" exclaimed Jane. "Maura Isles is afraid of looking less than perfect. Well, that just convinces me even more that you should stay." She sat Maura down on the bed and began rifling through her dresser drawers. She took a clean tank top and a pair of shorts and put them in Maura's hands.

"Here you go—it's a warm night, so these should be fine. Now, give me five minutes in the bathroom, and then it's all yours."

By the time Jane came out, Maura had already changed into her improvised pajamas and carefully folded her clothes, leaving them on a chair. She walked into the bathroom without saying a word. After a minute, Jane heard Maura call out, "Don't you have anything that can be used as makeup remover in here?"

Jane yelled back, "Won't soap and water work?"

Maura didn't answer. Jane had no trouble interpreting the silence.

When Maura finally emerged from the bathroom, Jane had already taken the left side of the bed and she was stretched out staring at the ceiling. Maura walked around the bed and got in on the other side after switching off the overhead light. She immediately rolled onto her right side, facing away from Jane, and muttered a quick good night.

After about ten seconds, Jane poked her. "Hey."

"Hey, what." Maura didn't move.

"This really isn't much of a sleepover."

"What do you mean?"

"We're supposed to talk and giggle and stuff, and you won't even look at me."

"You can talk and giggle if you want, but I'm going to sleep."

Jane poked her again. Maura giggled.

"There, I giggled. Now can I go to sleep?"

"That wasn't much of a giggle—I want to hear some real laughing—"

Maura squealed as Jane started tickling her. She tried to push Jane away, but it was pointless. Finally, she turned over to face her friend, and only then did Jane stop.

They both just laid there, staring at each other and grinning in the dark. When Maura's breathing slowed and her eyes started looking heavy, Jane reached out and smoothed Maura's curls behind her ear.

"Maura." Jane's fingertips now brushed gently against Maura's forehead, and then her eyebrows, her cheekbones, her chin.

Maura felt her breath catch in her throat, and she didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything.

Jane's voice was serious and husky when she spoke again, resting her hand on the bare skin of Maura's shoulder. "Maura, will you believe me if I tell you that I have never seen you look as beautiful as you do right now?"

Maura looked at Jane. She had a sweet smile on her face—a smile that Maura had never seen before. Maura knew that no one smiling like that could possibly be lying. She felt her heart pounding so hard she could barely speak.

So she just whispered. "Thank you, Jane. I do believe you."

"Good." Jane reached down and pulled the sheet over both of them.

"G'night, Maura."

"Good night, Jane."

When Maura opened her eyes very early the next morning, still half asleep, she found herself staring at a head of dark brown curls. Her right arm was lightly draped over Jane's stomach. She smiled to herself for a split second, but then suddenly she jerked awake as she realized she probably shouldn't have her hand on her friend's stomach. Jane seemed to be sleeping, and she began to slowly withdraw her arm, but instead Jane grabbed it and pulled her closer.

"Don't go," Jane muttered sleepily. "You're warm."

The temperature had in fact dropped significantly during the night, and Maura felt the chill too.

"I'm just going to pull up the blanket." After covering them up, Maura let herself sink into Jane, reveling in the feeling of their bare legs and arms touching. She breathed in the smell of Jane, and within minutes she had fallen asleep again.

Now that she knew what it was like to fall asleep and then wake up next to Jane, sleeping alone made Maura miserable.

Maura felt tense all week. Half the time she was thinking about ways that she could get out of Saturday movie night so there would be no possibility of a sleepover. That little voice in her mind warned her, saying that she was becoming too dependent on Jane, and that the feelings she was having were only going to lead to trouble and heartbreak.

The other half of the time she was thinking of ways to make sure that Saturday movie night was once again held at Jane's so that there would be a sleepover. After all, Jane didn't seem to think that having a sleepover with a female friend was strange. The events of the weekend hadn't seemed to affect her at all—all week she was her usual self.

The internal battle she was having with herself was making it hard for Maura to concentrate. It was hard to sleep, even hard to eat.

When Jane called on Saturday afternoon and asked if she could once again host movie night at her place, Maura didn't hesitate. She just said yes, and she brought an overnight bag. There was no discussion of anyone sleeping on the couch—in fact, there was hardly a minute of the evening when the two women weren't touching each other in some way, so it seemed perfectly natural that they should once again share a bed.

It felt so good to be wrapped up in Jane's arms, feeling her warm breath on her neck and soft breasts pressed against her back that Maura hardly slept at all. She didn't want to miss a minute of it.

After several more days of highs and lows—the elation of being with Jane followed by the fear, worry, and loneliness when they were apart—Maura decided she needed to force herself to spend the weekend away and try to figure things out.

* * *

On Friday afternoon Jane sent Maura a text message asking if they could do movie night on Friday instead of Saturday. She didn't think she could wait the extra 24 hours before she was finally going to let herself kiss Maura.

Her plan to discover Maura's true feelings was going very well, she thought. Maura seemed fine with the way that their relationship was progressing physically—in fact, it seemed as though the blonde could hardly keep her hands off of her. The sexual tension between them had been building steadily, ever since their first sleepover. Jane was almost certain that Maura would reciprocate once she made the first move.

And she planned to make that move as soon as possible.

But when Maura didn't answer her text immediately, she started to fidget, and then worry, and then panic.

Finally, after two hours, her phone pinged. Maura's text read: _Sorry, I decided to take off for the weekend. See you Monday, okay_?

Jane immediately wrote back: _What? Where are you?_

Jane's heart sank when Maura's answer appeared: _A beach resort in_ _New Hampshire. Working on my tan _:)

That meant she was at least two hours away.

Jane banged her head on her desk, wondering how she could have been so stupid. Of course Maura would run, how had she not missed the signs?

Even using the considerable resources of the Boston PD, it still took Jane two hours on the phone, calling beach resorts, before she finally found the one that Maura was staying at. So by the time she knocked on the door of Maura's room it was nearly midnight.

As soon as Maura opened the door, Jane wanted to take her into her arms and kiss her senseless, but she restrained herself.

"Maura, I'm so sorry—"

"Jane! What in the world are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"I made a lot of phone calls. Maura, please, I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Maura was speechless, but she opened the door and gestured for Jane to take a seat on the sofa.

Maura sat down in a chair across from her. Jane took a deep breath, rubbing her palms on her knees.

"Maura, there's something you don't know about me."

Maura raised her eyebrows. "I'm sure there are many things I don't know about you, Jane; in fact I consider you to be quite a puzzle."

"What? You're much more puzzling than I am—but that's beside the point. This is something . . . really kind of big."

Jane paused. She realized she had never said this out loud before. She'd rehearsed it in her head during the two-hour drive but it was still hard to say.

Maura noticed Jane's discomfort and said, softly, "Jane, it's okay. I think I know."

"You do?" Jane looked down at her shoes. "You know that I'm gay?"

When Maura didn't say anything, Jane looked up, and found the blonde staring at her.

"Maura?"

"Well, I . . . I guess I didn't know that."

Jane blushed so hotly she thought even her scalp was pink, but she forged ahead.

"Well, I am. Nobody knows. Except I think Korsak suspects, and maybe Frankie. But in any case, I've known this about myself for a long time, but I've never done anything about it." Jane's words were coming fast now, and she stood up and began pacing.

"Until I met you. I—I fell in love with you, Maura. I didn't have a clue what to do about it though, and I just kept ignoring it, until then I couldn't anymore."

Jane took a deep breath. She still hadn't looked Maura in the eyes.

"So for the past couple of weeks I thought maybe that you . . . that you could maybe have feelings for me . . . since you didn't seem to mind me touching you so much . . . but since you clearly had to run away from me because I was so damned aggressive—"

Jane sat back down again, and leaned forward in her chair, but she didn't touch her friend. "I'm sorry, Maura, we can just go back to being friends, I promise I can control myself—just don't run away from me."

Maura looked at Jane's pleading eyes and her heart melted. The fear and worry that had been weighing her down disappeared as she saw that Jane was being completely honest with her. And it was time for her to be completely honest with Jane.

"So, when you told your mother that you were never going to settle down with a man, it wasn't the settling down part that you objected to, it was the man part?"

Jane was unable to stop herself from smirking at the way Maura had decided to describe her sexuality. She didn't think Maura had even noticed the bad pun.

"Um, yeah."

"And—you're attracted to me?"

"God, yes," breathed Jane. "But—"

Maura put a hand up to stop her.

"How long have you been—you know, feeling this way?"

"Since I caught you slamming your dinner into the trashcan and cursing at it."

Now it was Maura who couldn't stop herself from smirking.

"And, for the last few weeks you've been, what—trying to seduce me?"

Jane looked embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess I have been—I'm really sorry, Maura."

"It's okay, Jane, it worked," said Maura, simply.

"Wha—" Jane looked Maura in the eyes.

"It worked. I didn't run away because I was afraid of you—I was afraid of myself. I thought that you thought that we were just friends, since I hardly know what friendship is about, but—" Now Maura looked embarrassed, but she continued.

"I wanted to be with you, all the time. I wanted to touch you, and hold you, and—" Maura paused, looking down at the floor, and back at Jane again. "I'm in love with you too."

Jane felt relief wash over her, as she looked into Maura's eyes.

"Jane, if this is going to work, we both have to start talking to each other, instead of guessing all the time, instead of trying to solve the puzzle by ourselves."

Jane's heart was pounding, and she said in a husky voice, "I totally agree."

They both looked at each other. Then Maura got up and settled herself on the sofa next to Jane. She put her arm around the brunette's neck and her other hand on her knee.

When Jane spoke again, her voice was even huskier, and it was so close to Maura's ear that she felt it vibrate and a thrill went through her.

"Maura, is there anything else you want to say before I kiss you?"

Maura licked her bottom lip and nodded, never taking her eyes away from Jane's.

"What is it then?"

"I love you, baby." Her hand moved up to stroke Jane's face.

"I love you too," said Jane, and then her lips finally reached Maura's before the sound of the words had died away.

Maura's mouth was warm and soft and she responded hungrily to Jane's touch, pressing their bodies as close together as possible. But as exquisite as Maura's lips were, Jane couldn't wait to taste other things—other parts of Maura that she had been imagining for so, so long. She broke the kiss and immediately began trailing kisses down Maura's jaw and neck, pushing her back into the sofa. She paused involuntarily for just a moment as she felt Maura's hands slip under her shirt and stroke the bare skin of her back and stomach. She went back to Maura's mouth again, and groaned deeply when Maura thrust her tongue inside and gripped Jane's hips tighter.

When Jane broke the kiss this time, they were both breathing heavily, and Maura was completely pinned beneath her.

"What do you want, Maura? Tell me what you want," croaked Jane.

Maura didn't hesitate. "I want to see you naked," she breathed out in a whisper, right into Jane's ear. "I want to feel you—every inch of you."

Jane didn't trust herself to speak, so she just rolled off the sofa and stood up, pulling Maura after her. Maura turned away briefly, just long enough to close the curtains and turn down the bed. Jane pulled off her shirt, and then Maura was standing in front of her, cupping her breasts in her hands. She reached around and unhooked her bra, letting it fall on the floor, and then cupped them again. When Jane felt Maura take a nipple into her mouth, she arched her back and worried that she might fall over. She gripped Maura's hips tightly, to keep herself steady. Maura's hands were everywhere, caressing and kneading her bare skin as she sucked and licked and nipped at Jane's skin. Soon, Jane had stepped out of her pants, and she realized that Maura was standing back and admiring her body.

This was a new feeling for Jane—she had been so consumed with Maura's body and Maura's beauty that she hadn't realized how much she would enjoy the hungry look in Maura's eyes as she herself was examined, touched, and caressed. Jane felt the wetness between her legs increasing, as the ache grew stronger and more urgent.

Suddenly Maura pressed herself into Jane's body, throwing her arms around her lover's neck and kissing her deeply. "You're so beautiful, Jane, it makes me ache."

"I know the feeling, sweetie. I've been trying to tell you that for weeks now."

Now Maura was kissing her neck, and she whispered as she trailed her lips down to her collarbone, "I love it when you call me sweetie."

Jane really was worried that she couldn't stay on her feet much longer, so she forced herself to concentrate. "My turn," she growled, and she pushed Maura's hands away. Within seconds, Maura's clothes were puddled on the floor and Jane guided her onto the bed. The feeling of sliding her naked body over Maura's was so intense it made her head spin.

Now it was Jane's turn to explore Maura's breasts. She straddled the blond, and their hips ground together as Jane stroked Maura's nipples with her tongue. Maura's breathing grew labored, so Jane slid along Maura's side, and moved her trembling fingers closer and closer to the warmth at her core. Maura opened her legs. Jane plunged two fingers inside, relishing the gasp that Maura breathed out. Jane reached up and splayed her left hand on Maura's stomach, feeling taught muscles straining as she bucked her hips and ground into Jane's hand.

Jane didn't think there could be any better feeling in the world, than Maura clenching around her fingers as she came, hard and fast.

But then, not long after, Maura's fingers were inside of her when she came, hard and fast, and that was the greatest feeling in the world.

When Maura awakened the next morning and stumbled into the bathroom, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She saw disheveled hair and smudges of makeup around her sleepy eyes. But she also saw the marks that Jane had made on her neck and chest, and she felt beautiful.

She was Jane's, and Jane was hers, and she planned to never wake up alone again.

**The End**

A/N: My first "M" rating—please be kind. I hope you enjoyed the story. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


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